


Gold Bridge

by ThereminVox



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21669331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereminVox/pseuds/ThereminVox
Summary: From Partridge’s Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English:Gold Bridge-(n.) an easy and attractive means of escape.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Reader, Arthur Fleck/You, Joker/Reader, Joker/You
Kudos: 33





	Gold Bridge

* * *

  
**  
Imagine being one of the clown protestors...**

  
….on the subway at the precise time when Joker is being pursued by the detectives. Instead of the random man, it is you he steals the mask from. You are not provoked by ire. On the contrary, cliché though it may be, time stops as your gazes lock. Once you fully register his features, not a fibre of your being or twinge of conscience desires to engage in conflict. He appears… _different_ to you. Patently distinct from the crude manner of crowd with his tailored suit of primary shades, freshly dyed hair and superior makeup design.

Instant attraction…

Yet, no love at first sight.

No. Not quite…

Rather, ‘attraction’, as defined by a sense of kindred.

Although his unconventional beauty was certainly not one to go unnoticed. Unfortunately, your time to admire said beauty was cut short as a gruff and disgruntled baritone pierced the existing clamour. Taking one lasting scan of you from head to toe, Joker positions the mask atop his head, pulling down to cover his face as he begins to reverse blindly through the masses. You turn just in time to see two men, one of whom was raising a badge, face marred by vexation. Mystique is further instilled; seeds of curiosity planted when you intuit their prime suspect. When you turn back to see Joker making haste from one car to the next, you’re quick to trail after, curious and eager to know where the rabbit hole will lead.

You marvel at the rudimentary hints of his endurance and agility. Swift as a fox and graceful as a swan. In contrast, the encompassing crowd grows increasingly agitated at the imperious bout of intrusion. Metastatic is their affliction in the throbbing gristle. Alternating between the object of your potential affection and the pathogens incarnate who seek to inject a sickly cure. Joker is confident in stride. His insouciance, enticing. Once he’s gotten far enough through another car, you slow when he slows, stopping when he stops. A spark of adrenaline-induced embarrassment courses through your temple when you attempt to blend in once more, hoping not to be exposed in your harmless stalking. What if he mistakes you as a third accomplice to undercover law enforcement?

The modest intensity of his searching gaze seems to suggest such suspicion as being unlikely. A soft, childlike innocence contradicts his unkempt appearance, making the flickering lights less jarring in effect, as well as mitigating the garish palette of claustrophobic dissidence. The sweet symphony of mob rule heightens in crescendo, deluging the muted notes of objection voiced by uniformed opposers. His pleasant expression is magnified through the peephole devised by two painted lips connected in carnal dance. The erotic proximity of their blurring faces, combined with the oscillating transition of light to dark, is not enough to render you obscure to those ardent, emerald eyes.

The optic jewels glint intently, revealing hints of mischief to match the curl of his lip, stretching gradually, if not knowingly, into a Cheshire grin. Having long since discarded the mask, he ignores the fallen cops completely. Thoroughly satisfied with his victory. His reward was never evident but, in that moment, he supposed his prize had manifested through you. _And oh, how he considers you._ A fledgling predator assessing his newborn prey. His first catch of the day to signify the promising grist of his transformation.

Naturally, he, too, imagines. A near imperceptible flicker of uncertainty briefly pondering the validity of your tangible presence. One that leaves as quickly as it came when he suddenly decides to turn on his heel and begin walking. Away from the raucous jeering of addled heathens. Away from the white noise that clouds his judgment. Knowing well that you’d not hesitate to follow suit. Mesmeric is the sway of his gait; alluring in rhythmic step. Luring his bait with each firm balance of sole. Eventually, your destination displaces you both to the corner of a discreet alleyway. The sudden thrust of intimacy imposes an awkward, strange spike of anticipation.

Hardly contemplating the possibility of your life being in danger. ‘Twas often the lingering smile and reassuring touch that provoked a heightened sense of dread. Unpredictable by nature and hence impossible to translate in innocuous terms.

Yet, he does so with near effortless conviction. His hand was offered keenly as common courtesy; left arm extended gingerly; palm face up in genuine gesture.

So, you take it. Sans protest. Absent clarity of mind. Your palm envelops the radiating warmth of his slender hand. He doesn’t say “where” or “why”, simply embracing your silent invitation and carving a fated path to wonder and revolution. A veritable Mad Hatter to Alice. It is this slight grip on reality that leaves you both reeling under nebulous guise of pale moonlight.

Exchanged as a whisper, akin to that of a blank shot from an empty gun, the appetising tease of touch secretly has him coming undone….

  
  


* * *

The first, but not last, of many to come.


End file.
